Sands Of Time
by Annaelle
Summary: (PREVIOUSLY NAMED UNTITLED) "Here we go again." Ten hours since the last crisis. Just ten. Great. Emma swallows thickly and starts pushing her way through the crowd, yelling, "Sheriff coming through." Finally she manages to break through the last line of people, stopping dead as she takes in the sight before her. It's certainly not what she expected. CS/OQ/Snowing
1. Prologue

**Hey there, lovelies!**

**I decided to upload the first chapter of my new multichap already, to give you guys something to look forward to when I finish ATAS :) This will be continued when ATAS is completed, and I do plan on focussing on that story before this one. **

**Hope you guys like it :D**

**Love, **

**Annaelle**

**.**

**.**

**.**

**Untitled**

**Preface**

"Are you sure about this?"

She smiles sadly and nods, before looking down and swallowing thickly. Despite this plan having been in the making for months—years, even—the moment to set it into motion finally being here is overwhelming for both of them, and their impending goodbye weighs heavily on her mind.

She's sure it does on his too.

"I need to do this," she whispers, tears filling her eyes once again.

"I know," he replies sadly, "I know. But… If this works… If you change the past, our lives will be different—we could… There is a possibility we would never meet."

"I don't believe that," she shakes her head immediately, rushing towards him to take his hands in hers. "I _love_ you—I'll always find you, as you will with me."

He nods wordlessly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips before sighing heavily, touching the silver pendant around her neck. "Be careful. Promise me you'll come back to me." She closes her fingers around his wrist and nods, ignoring the tear that rolls down her cheek.

"I promise."

"Good," he chuckles, "Good. Now go. It's your turn to be the hero."

His face is the last thing she sees before her vision is filled with bright, blinding white light.

.

.

.

Emma chuckles when Killian presses her against the wall in the alley, eagerly attacking every inch of skin he can reach with kisses. "Killian," she groans, patting his shoulder half-heartedly—he looks so happy and carefree and _sweet_, and she's never seen him look like this before and she doesn't want the look to ever disappear.

"Come on," she moans when he presses his lips to her cheek and lingers, "my parents are right around the corner."

"I'm well aware, darling," he breathes, his fingers playing idly with her hair—she really doesn't understand his obsession for it, but it's cute, so she lets him. "It _is_ why you decided we ought to hide in this alley."

She knows he does not mean for it to sound like he is hurt or bitter, but she knows that the feelings are there nonetheless, and she hates that she's pushed him away so many times he's decided it's okay if she's ashamed of _them_, as long as there is a them.

"Hey," she tugs on his hair gently to get him to look up at her. "I'm not ashamed of this," she says slowly, "and I don't regret a damn thing about last night. I just…" She sighs heavily and shakes her head, "I think we should not flaunt anything for a while. You know, with Regina and Robin and Marian…"

She trails off awkwardly and pouts again—she didn't mean to ruin Regina's second chance at love, but she refuses to feel bad for saving an innocent woman's life and reuniting a little boy with his mother. Killian pointed that out to her yesterday, after Regina stormed out of the diner and Henry followed her, and it made a lot of sense.

Of course, she was a little distracted by getting all of that leather _off_ her pirate for the rest of the night—and most of the following morning—so she hadn't checked in with Henry yet.

"Love," Killian rubs his thumb over her cheek gently, "the Queen must fight this battle herself. If she truly loves Robin, she will fight for him, and she will not allow anything or anyone to stop her." His eyes are _blue_ and _sincere_ and her heart is pounding—she has to remind herself she can't be in love with him yet; it's too soon.

Too soon after Neal, too soon after Walsh—though she would _really_ rather forget he ever even existed.

"Like you?" She questions playfully, tugging on his necklace with a small smile.

"Aye, Swan," he chuckles, leaning down to kiss her again, "Like me—a man, or woman, in the Queen's case, who doesn't fight for what she wants, deserves what she gets."

"Really?" Emma drawls, pulling him forward by the chain, "So… What _do_ you deserve for everything you've done for me?" His answering grin is downright lecherous, and she's suddenly _very_ glad there's no one around to see them.

"Oh, I believe I reaped the rewards for my efforts last night, love," he smirks smugly, nudging his nose against hers, "Several times."

She just rolls her eyes and kisses him again.

She has no idea how long they've been in the alley before they're interrupted—_of course_ they are—by Leroy, who's screaming about being attacked and portals.

"Seriously?" Emma pouts, dropping her head to Killian's shoulder, "Is one day too much to ask? It's been like ten hours since the last town crisis." He chuckles and rubs his hand over her back soothingly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"Ah, such is the life of the Savior, love," he grins, "Come, let's go see what all the fuss is about."

She lets him drag her back onto Main Street, where they immediately stumble upon a large crowd forming. Snow is standing at the back, Neal in her arms, craning her neck to see what's going on.

"Mom," Emma exclaims, "What's going on?"

She ignores the way Snow looks between her and Killian—it's probably because he's not wearing his vest and coat (she _may_ have been a little too enthusiastic about removing them and broken a few of the clasps on the vest)—and tiptoes, trying to look over the still growing crowd.

"I don't know," Snow replies slowly, still glancing back and forth between Emma and Killian, "there was a huge flash of light and a wave of… Well, some kind of magic, and then people started yelling and pointing before I could really see what was going on."

"Okay," Emma sighs, shaking her head, "Here we go again." She swallows thickly and waits until she's sure Killian will be right next to her—he always is—before she starts pushing her way through the crowd, yelling, "Sheriff coming through. Stand aside, let me through!"

Finally she manages to break through the last line of people, stopping dead as she takes in the sight before her.

It's certainly not what she expected.

Before her stands a tall, dark-haired girl dressed in full Enchanted Forest gear—and she does mean that literally. She's wearing leather pants, knee-high leather boots, white linen shirt, a heavy leather belt with two guns and, when she turns, Emma sees a sword strapped to her back.

Emma opens her mouth to say something, _anything_, when the girl suddenly gasps loudly, her eyes—green, _green_ eyes—widening in surprise. Emma turns to find Killian and her mother standing behind her, and for the life of her, Emma can't figure out why they seemed to shock the girl so intensely.

"Who are you?" Emma says slowly, turning back to the newcomer, "Why are you here?"

"I'm—" she stutters, and Emma's slightly taken aback by the girl's soft accent, "I'm… _Anna_," she finishes, "You may call me Anna."

_Lie_.

But not really.

Emma tilts her head to the side and regards _Anna_ closely. "That's not your name," she deadpans, feeling Killian tense slightly behind her.

"No," Anna smiles tightly, "But I cannot tell you who I really am. You've travelled to the past." She gestures to Emma and Killian, "You know what it's like. I cannot divulge too much." Emma's eyes widen and she gapes at the girl.

"You are from a different time?" Killian questions slowly, stepping up close behind Emma, resting his good hand on the small of her back—she relaxes just a little bit and scolds herself for how much she needs him by her side before returning her attention to the strange girl.

"Aye," Anna nods slowly, "Twenty or so years into the future."

"So why are you here?" Snow interjects kindly, eyeing the girl nervously.

"To help," Anna replies immediately, "And to insure what has come to pass by the time I was born does not happen."

"Why would we need your help?" Emma frowns confusedly, "I thought the timeline wasn't supposed to be altered." Killian nods silently, curling his fingers into the soft fabric of Emma's shirt without thinking about it. Emma smiles a little at the move, knowing he is subconsciously trying to anchor himself to her so he will not lose her to another portal.

"I don't think you'll mind me altering this timeline," Anna sighs gravely, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly.

"And why's that?" Emma crosses her arms over her chest and raises an eyebrow.

"Cause if I don't help you, most of you will be dead within a week."


	2. Chapter 1 - Let It Be

**Hello lovelies, here I am again with the first chapter to Untitled (I will name it at some point, I just haven't thought of something fitting just yet ;) ). A couple of things before you start reading.. **

**First, I do have the entire story planned out-at least, the plot line, flashbacks and general ending, but I don't know how long it's going to be just yet. I do know I will name every chapter with a matching Beatles song (if I can find them :p) and that it will ALWAYS include at least one flashback, and sort of built like an actual Once Upon episode.**

**If I can manage that, that is ^^**

**Can't promise regular updates either, but I try, lovelies, I try. **

**Second, you may remember that our mysterious traveller from the future named herself as 'Anna'. This will stay the same, but when we're talking of Elsa's sister, it will be spelled 'Ana' with one 'n', just so you know the difference. **

**Third, this WILL be confusing before it becomes clear. Just so you know :D There will be some canon stuff hidden in here too. **

**Fourth, I absolutely refuse to call Baby Charming 'Neal', so I named him Graham in this fic-just a head's up so you don't get too confused. **

**And, last but not least, thank you to JustSmileBFF and DancingDoula for beta'ing this for me and listening to my rants about OUAT, Captain Swan and life in general.**

**Love, Annaelle**

**PS Thank you to all those who have read, faved, followed, reviewed and loved already! I love all of you!**

* * *

**Chapter One - Let It Be**

_And when the broken hearted people  
Living in the world agree  
There will be an answer,_

_Let it Be_

_For though they may be parted  
There is still a chance that they will see  
There will be an answer_

_Let it Be _

_—Let It Be, The Beatles_

**The Enchanted Forest—Some time into the future**

Emma blinks confusedly as they emerge from the portal, taking in the sight of what would have been her fatherland had the Curse not been cast. Had they not been sent to Storybrooke—they might've all been alive now, if they'd never been in Storybrooke.

The thought of all those who were lost in the battle with the Ice Queen makes her heart ache and her knees almost give out—she still doesn't know how to keep going, how to survive on her own.

It _hurts_, and she _can't_, she can barely breathe without _him_, without _them_.

"Mom?"

Her head snaps up and she looks up at her son, her beautiful boy—she needs to keep him safe, she needs to keep all of them safe.

They're all she has left and she can't lose them too.

"I'm okay," she says firmly, and she almost believes it, "I'm fine."

Henry's eyes flash down to her stomach—it's barely visible, but it's there, the undeniable curve of her baby bump. She swallows thickly and shakes her head, her hand falling to cover the small bump. "The baby's fine too. Where's Dav—dad with baby Graham? We should get going."

"I'm here," David appears behind her, baby Graham cradled in his arms, "We can go—Ruby is going with us to the castle, as are most of the others. Marion took Roland and some of the Merry Men and left us."

Emma winces—she feels responsible for the rift that the Ice Queen caused between Marion and the rest of them—but nods and sighs. "I expected as much," she admits, "she blames us for Robin…" David rests his hand on her shoulder, and she nearly shatters when she realizes that despite his own pain and grief, he is still trying to make _her_ feel better.

She hates that—she can't stand it.

She doesn't deserve to be comforted—she should have been able to stop the Ice Queen before she killed so many people. Before she destroyed the bonds of friendship and family that were holding Storybrooke's community together.

She shrugs off his hand and turns away from him, gazing at the castle before them. "Let's just go," she says evenly, "there's no use standing out here doing nothing."

No one contradicts her, but they all simply follow her as she starts walking. She rubs her belly absent-mindedly, her mind whirring as she tries to accept the enormous changes in her life—she is no longer in Storybrooke; she'll probably never even see the world she'd grown up in again; she doesn't have… she doesn't have anyone but Henry and David and baby Graham and a few of the villagers that decided to stick with them.

And this baby.

She glances down at her barely swollen belly.

She has this baby—and she's going to make sure that he or she has everything she never had; that she never got the chance to give Henry.

This baby will know its loved.

.

.

.

**Storybrooke, Maine—Present day**

Emma doesn't like cold.

Never has, honestly—when she was four, shortly after the Swans had given her back, there had been a very cold winter, and the all the other children in the orphanage had been delighted. Emma hadn't understood—all she could think of was how _cold_ it was, and that everyone else had nice, warm jackets so the cold wouldn't bother them.

She didn't.

All she had was a flimsy sweater that did little to protect four-year-old Emma from the harsh elements, and she had gotten really sick over and over again that winter.

She'd hated cold ever since.

Knowing that, trudging through the woods with a girl who claims she's from the future with an icy cold headwind seemingly blowing right through her warm scarf and jacket does not help with Emma's rapidly increasing bad mood.

"So," Emma shivers, "Are you sure we're heading in the right direction?" She rethinks the question and sighs exasperatedly, "Scratch that, how do you even know what direction we're heading in? I thought you said you're from the Enchanted Forest." She slows to a stop and eyes Anna suspiciously—she _knows_ Anna is trying to help, the girl hadn't been lying about that, but she'd been _very _evasive about everything else, including the things she knows about their future.

Anna turns and crosses her arms over her chest, glaring at Emma a little. "Look, I already told you we're looking for Elsa—her magic manifests in ice and snow. Look around," she gestures impatiently at the forest that surrounds them, "the cold and snow has been getting worse and worse—that's how I know we're heading in the right direction."

Emma _really _wants to retort snappily, but Anna's right, the cold _has_ been getting worse and there are little patches of snow and ice ahead of them—they have to be close.

She really hopes they are.

She doesn't like not being a hundred percent sure that Anna will have her back, but Anna had been adamant that Killian _didn't_ go with them, and Emma believed her enough to agree and send Killian to find King George with David and Regina.

She still only knows part of the story that brought Anna here, and she's not sure if she'll ever really know the whole story—especially if Anna succeeds in saving everyone, like she says she plans to. Emma also doesn't like knowing how uncomfortable Anna is around some of them—it only serves to make her more suspicious of the girl's motives, even though she doesn't think Anna's there to harm them in any way.

She briefly recalls their conversation, back in the loft, as she and Anna start walking again.

.

.

.

_The silence in the room is deafening, and everyone stares at Anna as she fidgets nervously. _

_"How do we know you're not lying to us?" Snow's tone is anything but accusing, but Anna flinches anyway—something, Emma's noticed, she does more often when Snow or Killian speak to her—the poor girl can barely get a word out, and despite not knowing a damn thing about her, Emma feels bad for her. _

_Anna's obviously nervous and a little scared, and having everyone—and she does mean everyone, from Regina and her parents to Ruby, Granny and the dwarves—stare at her like this can't be helping. Emma exchanges a quick glance with Killian, her stomach doing a funny fluttery thing when he smiles at her and squeezes her hand. _

_She knows he's noticing the same thing as she is, and though they're all very curious to know who Anna is and why she's here, it's not going to help anyone if Anna's too overwhelmed to get more than two words out. _

_"Okay," Emma speaks up slowly, looking around the room, "Maybe we should… Anna, would it be easier to talk to me? Just me? Or someone else?" _

_Anna's eyes widen fractionally, and Emma can't help but study her all over again—there's still something about Anna that makes Emma feel at ease and very nervous at the same time and she hates that. _

_Anna's eyes drift from one to the other, and once again, Emma notices the flash of… something in her eyes as she glances at Snow and Killian—even Granny seems to make her uncomfortable. _

_She wonders if she's met them, in the future. _

_If she really is from the future, that is. _

_"I… I suppose," Anna finally says hesitantly, her eyes finally resting on Emma again, "I suppose I should inform you and, uh—" she swallows thickly, "David, perhaps? If that is acceptable. I am simply attempting to keep anyone from dying." _

_Emma's not sure about anything right now—but she believes her. She believes that Anna is honestly trying to save all their lives. _

_Emma glares at Grumpy when he starts to protest—loudly, of course—and offers Killian a reassuring smile as he gets to his feet reluctantly. "I suppose we should take our leave for now then." He eyes the others in the room, and surprisingly, everyone follows his lead, excusing themselves and slowly leaving the loft until only Henry, Snow, Charming, Regina and Killian are left. _

_Snow eyes Anna suspiciously and slowly suggests, "We'll just… Go upstairs. I could use some help moving Graham's changing table." _

_"But of course, milady," Killian bows smoothly, "It would be my pleasure. Come lad," he claps his hand on Henry's shoulder, "Let's go see what we can do for your grandmother." _

_Emma watches them leave the room—they look adorable together—and shoots Regina a warning glare before she follows Snow and the boys up the stairs. "Okay," she drawls after a short, tense silence, "So… Someone's coming to hurt us? And Elsa has something to do with it?"_

_Anna nods tersely, still fidgeting uncontrollably. _

_David and Emma exchange a look, and Emma's comforted to know that David has her back. "How do we know you're not trying to distract us so they can just kill us when we least expect it?" _

_Anna bites her lip and sighs, sinking onto the chair Charming had procured for her earlier. "Well," she drawls slowly, "You could ask Emma… She would be able to tell if I was lying, would she not?" _

_Emma narrows her eyes at the girl, suspiciously trying to discern a lie—there has to be one, right? Who would know so much about them and not try to use it against them? "How do you know about that? Actually—how do you know so much about us to begin with?" _

_Anna groans again, shaking her head exasperatedly. "I told you," she exclaims, "I cannot tell you—I cannot risk divulging too much. I might have already changed things for the worse simply by telling you I am from the future—I promise that I am here simply to help. I wish for all of you to find your Happy Ending, and I am here to see to it that you do. All of you." Her eyes stray towards Regina before they return to Emma, and her eyes are wide and pleading, and damn it, Emma can't find anything but sincerity in Anna's eyes. _

_"Fine," Emma grumbles, "Fine. So we need to find this Elsa girl before she freezes the entire town by accident? That's it?" _

_Anna nods, and Emma grunts, grinning at her dad. "Well, we've faced worse than that." _

_Before David can reply, Anna sighs and shakes her head again. "No, you have not," she declares ominously. "Elsa is not the true threat," she continues when Emma glares at her, "She is a minor threat—a distraction from a greater and more formidable foe."_

_"A distraction how, exactly?" Regina pipes in from where she stood hidden behind a wooden pillar, looking highly uncomfortable sitting in the same room as Emma. Anna stiffens immediately, but Emma's focus is still on Regina, and she suddenly feels really guilty for ruining her second chance with Robin—she knows Regina is mad at her. _

_Emma can't blame her—she's relieved she managed to convince Regina to come here at all. _

_Anna eyes everyone in the room nervously before shrugging and deflating. "I am not certain. I mean—" she adds quickly, "I know who it is, but I don't know where they are. I was led to believe that one of them is an old nemesis of yours and Snows," she nods towards Charming, "A father, or father in law, perhaps?" _

_"King George?" Charming frowns, "I thought he'd been locked up…" _

_"Okay, so we need to find this Elsa and King George?" Regina raises an eyebrow at Anna and rolls her eyes, "I still fail to see why we would need your help in this—we are by far capable of dealing with a mad old king and a frightened little girl." _

_Something flashes in Anna's deep blue eyes and Emma jumps when one of the light bulbs bursts. "No," Anna hisses, "You are not. In fact, that arrogance is what got you killed. It is not just those two—Elsa can be an ally if you are able to get to her in time and if we can take George out, she'll be working on her own and won't have any inside knowledge of you." _

_Emma stares at Anna warily, suddenly unsure if Anna's really as innocent in her intentions as she claims to be—Emma knows magic when she sees and feels it, and whatever burst that light bulb, it was magic. _

_"Calm down," David suddenly interrupts, drawing Anna's eyes to him, "we believe you. Who else is out there? If George and Elsa are not the real threat, who is?" _

_Anna fidgets nervously and bites her lip as she drawls, "Well… I do not know exactly who she is. But I know what to look for—when I see her, I will know." Regina snorts derisively and Anna's eyes lock back onto the Queen—Emma swears that if looks could kill, Regina would be a pile of ash on the floor. _

_"Okay," she shakes her head, "Let's not get ahead of ourselves—how about we find the people we actually know first? Dad, maybe you should go looking for King George…" She hesitates and offers, "Anna, maybe you can go with him, and Killian and I will go looking for Elsa." _

_"No," Anna shakes her head, "I will go with you to find Elsa. Hook may go with David to find George."_

_Emma's eyes widen a little, panic seeping through her usually calm façade—she doesn't want to go anywhere without Killian by her side; it's scary to trust him so much, but she knows he'll always have her back if they're attacked, and that's what she needs in a situation like this._

_"Look, Anna," she says slowly, "No offence, but—"_

_Anna shakes her head and stalks forward, looking Emma straight in the eye—it is unnerving—, "No. I have to go with you, and Killian has to go with David. Please," the girl pleads, "If there was ever a time to start listening to me, this is it. Please." _

_There's some kind of desperation in Anna's eyes that makes Emma feel uncomfortable and sad at the same time, and she realizes that whatever will happen if Killian were to come with her to find Elsa, it scares Anna—and that scares Emma too. _

_"Okay," she acquiesces, "Okay, fine. Dad, you and Killian go look for George.." she hesitates for a moment and shoots Regina a wary look, "Take Regina with you—just in case." _

_David doesn't seem all too pleased, but nods nonetheless, standing up and offering Regina an uneasy smile. "Shall we, Regina?" He doesn't seem fazed when Regina shoots him a withering glare before stalking out the door, leaving everyone in silence for a moment. "Well," David coughs stiffly, "That went well. I'll just go get Ho—Killian… And I'll tell Snow to stay put with Henry and Graham." _

_Emma smiles tightly and follows him up the stairs, already mentally preparing a speech to get her pirate to comply and go with her father instead of her and Anna. _

_It's not going to be easy. _

_It never is. _

.

.

.

"So," Emma drawls after walking in silence for another few minutes, "You have magic?"

She doesn't miss the way Anna stiffens for a split-second, her eyes nervously seeking out Emma's, before she nods curtly. "Aye. I was born with it—I was lucky to have someone to help me learn how to control it as I grew up."

She turns to Emma and offers her a sad smile, "I am aware you did not have this—and if I remember correctly, neither did Elsa. That is why she is unleashing her magic like this. It is linked to her stronger emotions, like fear and love… I imagine she is quite frightened by now, having awoken in a new, unfamiliar world."

It makes a lot of sense, when she puts it like that, and Emma shrugs. "I guess that makes sense. I mean, mine's unpredictable too. It gets stronger when I—" she cuts off abruptly, eyes wide and startled as they break through the trees onto a clearing, where several large snow monsters—_really, snow monsters too? Couldn't the girl just go with adorable little Olaf? Emma wouldn't mind that snow man so much_—are waiting for them, growling and hissing threateningly.

"No," Anna grabs Emma's hand as she moves to draw her gun, "No, don't. They are no threat—they will not harm us unless we harm them."

Emma gapes at Anna incredulously, shaking off the girl's hand, "Seriously?"

"Aye," Anna glares, "Now be silent." She turns back towards the snow monsters and tentatively calls out, "Elsa? Elsa, I know you are there. Please—we're not here to harm you, we're here to help. You're looking for your sister, yes? I believe I know where I can find her, but please… Please, Elsa, come out."

Emma stares at her, sincerely doubting Anna's sanity for a moment, before the snow men suddenly part, revealing a tall, pale, beautiful woman in a sparkling blue dress, with eyes bluer than the skies on a cold, clear winter day.

Holy shit.

She even looks like the woman from the movie.

Emma almost chuckles—after getting almost every other fairy tale character wrong, they finally managed to get one right with this one.

"You know my sister?" The woman—who must be Elsa—says shakily, though Emma can see that she is attempting to sound strong and intimidating.

Anna steps forward hesitantly, eyeing the large snow men on either side of her before she replies, "No—but I know of her. I am not from here, so I do not know precisely where she is, but—" she turns around and beckons Emma quickly, "This is Emma. She is the Sheriff, and she can help you find your sister."

She nearly protests—she's the Saviour, she has more on her mind than looking for some girl wayward sister—but then she catches the pleading look on Anna's face and sighs, deciding to play along, for now. Anna had made it very clear that having Elsa on their side would only help their cause, and Emma supposes that's more important than whether or not she has time to look for Elsa's sister.

"Yeah," Emma gives Elsa tense smile—holy shit, she can't believe she's actually talking to her; she remembers watching the movie in New York with Henry—and takes a few steps forward. "I can—I'm good at finding people. Do you, uh—"

She glances at the large snow men, "—you think you could get your bodyguards to stand down?"

For a split-second, it looks like Elsa will agree—like they will get out of this scot-free—but then a loud bang startles them all, and the snow and cold wind pick up around them, the ground beneath Emma's feet shaking as it freezes completely.

"Shit," Emma curses as she slips, grabbing onto the nearest tree to hold herself up.

She glances at Anna, who seems remarkably put together, but terrified at the same time as she tries to reason with Elsa, whose hands are raised defensively as the snow monsters surround them.

"No," Elsa hisses, "No, you bring Ana to me—" Emma almost misses the way her eyes flit over to her before she's suddenly encased in ice, trapped in a cocoon of thick, impenetrable ice and _shit, _she curses to herself as the impact and consequences of her imprisonment hit her.

"Hey!" She yells, pounding her fists on one of the walls, "Let me out! Anna! Elsa!"

She can't hear anything, and the icy cold of the walls is starting to creep through her clothes, making her shiver—she doesn't know what's going on out there, and this is _why _she wanted Killian to come with her _damnit_.

She's cold and scared and her magic won't work and she has no idea when they're coming for her—_if_ they're coming for her.

For all she knows, Anna was working with Elsa all along.

Emma rubs her hands over her arms in a desperate attempt to stay warm, trying not to get discouraged by the numbness that is already spreading from her fingers and toes. Killian and her dad will come for her—that's what her family does.

_At least_… She pounds her fist on the thick ice one more time before giving up… _She hopes they will._

She has to believe in them—in their love for her. As hard as it may be to believe, she knows that her parents and her son and her pirate love her and she needs to trust that love.

She needs to believe in it.

She needs to know _she_ is loved—however unfeasible it still seems in her own eyes.

She is loved.


	3. Chapter 2 - Yesterday

**Hello my darlings! **

**I hope this doesn't get lost in all the CS Date love and drama, but here, have a chappie ;) Just so you know, the scene where Emma is trapped in ice and nearly freezes was planned long before 4x02 came out, which is why I didn't write a 4x02 oneshot ;) Consider this chapter that oneshot :D **

**Now, on with the show! I'd love to hear your opinion and guesses as to who will figure out who Anna is first ;) **

**Thank you to JustSmileBFF and DancingDoula for beta'ing this for me and listening to my rants about OUAT, Captain Swan and life in general.**

**R&R, darlings! It feeds the musie-she's a greedy little bitch ;)**

**Love, Annaelle**

**PS Thank you to all those who have read, faved, followed, reviewed and loved already! I love all of you!**

* * *

**Chapter Two****—Yesterday**

_Suddenly, I am not half the man I used to be_

_ There's a shadow hanging over me_

_Oh, yesterday came suddenly_

_Why she had to go I don't know  
She wouldn't say  
I said something wrong, now I long for  
Yesterday_

_Yesterday  
Love was such an easy game to play  
Now I need a place to hide away_

_—Yesterday, The Beatles _

**The Enchanted Forest—little less than a year into the future**

"She's really beautiful, mom."

Emma smiles sadly at Henry from her position in her bed, swaddled up in blankets and soft pillows as she recovers from giving birth to her daughter. It had been a very difficult and long birth, and even three days later, Emma is still tired and sore—she can barely get herself to move.

Her pregnancy, though in many ways a lifeline over the past nine months, has taken a lot out of her.

And though Henry's tried to keep it together for the four of them—for her, for the baby, for baby Graham, for her dad—she knows he is exhausted too.

Sometimes, it is just too easy to forget that she is not the only one who is grieving—that she is not the only one who lost a lover, a friend, _family_. Sometimes, she _wants_ to forget, because if she does, it is easier to be angry and hurt and snap at everyone who approaches her.

If she forgets, she does not have to feel guilty about being mean and rude afterwards.

She chokes back a sob as she watches Henry lift his baby sister carefully, staring at her almost as though he's in awe—maybe he is.

She had been, when her baby had first been placed into her arms. She had been in awe that she had been able to create something so delicate and beautiful—so fragile, but already so powerful. When the baby cried yesterday, all the windows in the room had shattered, and Emma had been grateful for her practices with Elsa—she had had enough control to throw up a protection spell around her and her beautiful little baby girl so they wouldn't be harmed by the glass shards that had flown around the room.

It'd sent Elsa and her father into a frenzy to find a bracelet to control the baby's magic until she is old enough to learn to do it herself—but all Emma had been able to muster up was awe.

Awe that something so powerful and beautiful and small is _hers_.

"She is," Emma finally whispers in reply when Henry moves to sit next to her on the bed, his baby sister cradled in his arms, "and she looks just like him. She even has his eyes." !The thought of his crystalline blue eyes, eyes that could always see right through her, makes her heart clench painfully, as though the shard of ice that had been lodged in his heart and that killed him has found its way into her own heart after all and is now slowly trying to kill her from the inside out.

The mere memory of him _hurts_, and it makes her feel sick, because she'd _loved _him—because he was the best thing that had ever happened to her, and he deserves better than to have his memory associated with nothing but pain—because her daughter looks just like him, and she can't look at her without hurting.

But she can't _stop_ looking either.

Maybe she truly is a masochist.

Henry smiles sadly too, chuckling when the baby waves her arms around in that uncoordinated way babies do and reaches for his finger. "You know it might change," he says softly, uncertainly, "her eye colour… She might get yours eventually."

Emma shakes her head, a single tear rolling down her cheek as she looks down at her baby, "No… No, she'll have his eyes—he'll still be with us through her." !Henry nods slowly, playfully tugging on the baby's hand, trying to elicit a smile from the baby—even though they both know a three-day-old baby can't actually smile yet.

Henry grins when the baby scrunches her nose and starts wiggling insistently in his arms, and he bumps his shoulder against Emma's playfully as he hands her the baby—he's been around baby Graham long enough to recognize the signs of a child that is about to throw a tantrum because she's hungry. "You better feed the monster, mom. I think I heard her scream all the way in my room yesterday. For such a tiny thing, she sure has a big pair of lungs."

Emma chuckles, shrugging off the loose shirt she's wearing and guiding her daughter's hungry little mouth to her breast. She gasps when the baby finds her nipple and starts drinking greedily—breastfeeding is the oddest sensation, and though she knows it's good for bonding with her child, she doesn't _really_ regret not having had the chance to do this with Henry.

She's in the same boat now as she was when she was seventeen—it feels like she is—and she's still not sure how to do _this_.

How to be a mother and _not_ screw up.

She'd been broken before, after Neal, after Walsh, but she'd been able to be strong then, she hadn't been shattered so badly she couldn't remember how to breathe on her own.

But she is now—and so is her dad.

She doesn't have anyone to look to anymore.

Elsa will help, and so will Ruby, but they have both suffered heavy losses in the battle too and Emma doesn't know _how_ to let them help.

How to let anyone but Henry and her dad near her precious little baby.

Her beautiful little girl that is the only link she has left to her pirate—her dashing, courageous, _loving_ pirate. She misses him more than anything, and she knows that he would have been overjoyed to know that he had given her a daughter.

He'd have wanted to be here.

He would never have left her if he had known—she's sure about that. Surer than she had been about Neal—she's thought about him too, over the course of her pregnancy, and she's wondered what her life would have been like had Neal known of her pregnancy _before_ he left.

She knows that Killian would have done everything he could to stay.

She knows that.

But she's not so sure about Neal.

And that, knowing that she couldn't trust he'd have stayed, helped give her some closure—helped her realize that even if she'd have given Neal a chance before he'd died, it wouldn't have worked. It would have ended anyway, because she _knows_ she couldn't have trusted him with her heart.

Not like she trusted Killian.

"So," Henry drawls slowly, drawing her attention back to him, "Did you decide on a name yet?"

Emma looks at her daughter with a small, tender smile, gently lifting her daughter's tiny hand from where it was pushing on her sensitive breast. "Yeah," she says softly, "Leia—for the last adventure her father and I had. And Mary for—" she breaks of as another tear rolls down her cheek.

She doesn't need to finish that last sentence.

She knows Henry knows.

Henry is silent for a moment, obviously mulling over his baby sister's name before he smiles brightly and nods. "Leia Mary Jones. It does have a nice ring to it."

.

.

.

**Storybrooke, Maine—Sheriff's Station—Present time **

"She's _what_?!"

Killian watches as Anna flinches at David's shouted inquiry, uncertain of how to take Anna's disheveled and panicked state—it is more than obvious she did not expect Elsa to capture Emma and pressure them into finding Elsa's sister. He sighs and turns to David, clapping his hand on the man's shoulder while trying to keep himself under control—Emma needs him with a clear head.

"David, this is not helping. Anna is not to blame for someone else's actions." He turns back to Anna, raising a single eyebrow when her eyes flash with something—something he cannot and dares not identify.

He is silent for a moment before he shakes it off and continues, "Do you know where Elsa's sister is?"

Anna bites her lip and shakes her head. "No—no. I know that she _is_ here, and that her name is Ana, but I don't know _where_ she is. I thought that… If we found Elsa before _she_ did, we'd be fine. She knows how to control her magic—I know she does." Her voice is shaky and unsteady, and Killian is not sure what to make of her obvious concern for Emma.

He supposes it makes sense that she cares for them—why else would she have traveled back in time to save them?—but it is still quite startling to witness.

"We need to get Emma out of there," Anna continues, her voice a little steadier, but not much, "As soon as possible." Her eyes flash with green and Killian nearly jumps when he feels the familiar tingle of magic rush through the station before Anna's eyes flash back to their usual intense blue.

"I tried to break through it," Anna continues, "But I couldn't get past the ice—it was like there was a magical barrier that prevented my magic from getting to Emma… I've never—" she shakes her head and sighs, running her fingers through her hair, "I've never felt anything like it before. It's the first time I've ever felt anything that was stronger than my magic. I don't know what it is…"

She meets Killian's gaze head-on and sighs, "But it's not Elsa. She seemed surprised as well—before she took advantage of the situation to demand Ana's safe return."

"Fine," David sighs, "I suppose we could conduct a search of the town, ask people if they know her… That's how we usually manage to find people here; especially after this second Curse." David sighs and rubs his hand over his forehead, "Maybe Snow and Henry could help too…"

"We don't have time!" Anna exclaims suddenly, and Killian feels horribly unsettled at the panic in her voice, "She's _freezing to death_! We need to get her out now!"

David is still talking, but neither Killian nor Anna is listening to him—Killian's eyes are fixed upon Anna, who seems quite unsettled. He notes that she is shivering, and her fingertips are tinged with blue. He does not know, nor does he care, how she knows that Emma is freezing, but it seems that she has somehow connected herself to his Swan.

If it is a spell, it is a clever one.

There is no better way to monitor Emma's health than to _feel_ it. However, the effect that it seems to be having on Anna _is_ slightly worrying, and he does not know how much help Anna can be if she is experiencing Emma's feelings.

"Anna," Killian interrupts David's monologue, "How bad is it?"

His voice is shaking, but he cannot help it—he is terrified.

Despite Anna's assurances that Elsa is _not_ evil and on their side, he is _terrified_ of losing Emma, and he feels so _useless_. He cannot fight Elsa's magic—he cannot find Elsa's sister to have her return Emma—he can barely think straight.

Anna's eyes meet his, and he does not even flinch when her eyes flash from deep, rich blue to forest green before she replies. "She's bad—I don't think she's even conscious anymore. We need to get her out _now_." Her eyes fall to her own fingers, and she shivers as she stutters, "S—she's turning blue."

The urgency and fear in her voice are palpable, and it shuts both him and David up for a moment.

Killian almost feels as though the air has been punched out of his lungs.

He cannot fathom the idea of losing Emma—not Emma. He has survived the loss of his brother, of his Milah, of Bae—twice, at that—but he cannot survive losing his Swan. He will not be able to go on without her, and he is not being melodramatic either.

He is simply realistic—Emma had given him a reason to want to live once again. If he were to lose Emma, he would lose that love, that will to live.

"Then what are we waiting for?" He shifts impatiently, and he would have left already had he had any clue _where_ Elsa and Emma are. His earlier calm completely evaporated when Anna told them that Emma is freezing—now he can only think of getting to her and saving her and never letting her out of his sight ever again.

"Come on, mate," David sighs, "we can't just run up there half-cocked without a plan."

Killian glares at David as Anna throws her hands up exasperatedly, "Well, we have to do something! The—she's freezing. She doesn't have much longer." Both Killian and David stare at her, alarmed by how faint Anna's voice is. Killian's eyes widen as he realizes just how pale she is—her fingertips are almost completely blue and frosted and her lips are tinged with purple.

He turns back to David to give him a pointed look—to which the Prince finally responds with understanding, jumping into action and leading them both back to the large truck.

He doesn't even jump when the automobile emits a loud roar when David makes it move—all he can think of is his Swan, and his hope that they will be in time.

They have to be in time.

.

.

.

Cold.

All she feels is cold.

She can see through the thick walls of ice that surround her now—the thick, unforgiving white had evolved into a clear, glasslike state a few hours ago, and Emma can see the woman in the blue dress pacing constantly, only slowing when she passes Emma's cage. Emma's pretty sure Elsa—that's her name, right?—is the one that turned the ice into its current glasslike state.

She'd watched as Elsa tried to take down the cage when she'd realized how cold Emma was getting, but it didn't look like she'd managed to make any progress.

Her head feels heavy and she's curled up into a tight little ball against one of the walls, too cold to even shiver anymore. Her thoughts are sluggish and it's getting harder to keep her eyes open—it won't be that bad if she sleeps for a little bit, right?

Surely she'll feel better once she's taken a little nap.

"Emma!"

Her eyes flutter open again, and she looks around confusedly—she knows that voice… She's pretty sure she does. There's someone in front of her cage, kneeling on the ground and hand pressing to the cold ice. His features look all messed up through her bleary eyes and the thick ice but she knows him—those blue eyes…

"Killian?" Her voice is soft and shaky and she can barely even hear herself.

"Emma," his voice is louder and stronger, and it feels comforting to know he's right there with her. "Emma, love, you need to keep fighting—we're almost there. Anna and Elsa are working on getting you out. Just a little bit longer, love."

He sounds _so_ worried and she doesn't like that—she can almost see the frown creasing his forehead—, she just wants him here with her, so she can hold him. So she can tell him that she's fine, so that he can envelop her in his arms and so she can feel _safe_ and _home_.

He's always so _warm_—she could use some of that.

"Take c—care o—o—of Henry f—for me," she manages to tell him. She knows he'll never deny her anything—he never does—and she needs to know that, because she knows she's going to die in here. And she needs to know that both her boys will be taken care of—her father will be okay if this ends badly—he has her mom and baby Graham—but Killian and Henry…

She needs to know they are both okay.

"I—I'm sorry," she stutters, "I really lo—"

"No," Killian exclaims, and he sounds pained and scared and she doesn't want the last thing she hears to be him yelling at her, pleading with her to hold on, to not leave him too—to stay with him.

Frantic. Desperate. Terrified.

She's mad at herself for forgetting that she's not the only one who's lost a lot of people—who's been abandoned. For not seeing that he's always been there for her, even when she gave him no reason to be there.

_'I love you_.' She thinks, wishing that somehow he could hear her thoughts—her body's not cooperating anymore and she can't even feel the cold anymore as she slips down to the floor of her icy cage. Her eyes flutter shut of their own accord and she knows that her rescue is going to be too late—she's not even trembling anymore.

She knows she's slipping away—she can feel it happening, and it's the oddest, most terrifying thing she's ever felt. It's also the most comforting, because it's easy and slow and there's no pain there—she knows there won't be.

The last thing she hears before everything goes black is Killian's frantic voice, begging her to hang on, to stay with him—to never let go—and she wants to, _so, so_ badly, but she's _so_ tired. She just needs to close her eyes for a little bit.

Just for a little bit.

.

.

.

"Do something!" Killian cries desperately, digging his hook into the thick ice over and over again, to no avail—the ice is too thick, and he will never get through in time. His heart is pounding loudly in his ear, and each beat feels like a punch to the gut—his heart beats the same steady staccato…

It feels like Emma's name is imprinted upon the organ and each beat reminds him of her.

_Emma_.

He feels as though he too is struggling to survive, as though his body is shutting down along with Emma's—he cannot imagine a life without her by his side anymore, and he refuses to accept it. He has never felt so useless in his life—but he will not give up.

He bites his lip as he listens to Anna argue—albeit very shakily—with Elsa, pleading with her to help them take down the ice wall. He clenches his fist desperately, because he knows that his temper will not aid them, nor convince Elsa to hear their plight.

Anna had already admitted that something in the ice that is holding his Swan captive is stronger than her magic, and that she has never before seen anything like it.

_Emma_.

His nails dig into his skin as he pleads with Emma to hold on, to wake up—to not leave him as she had feared he would leave her.

_Emma._

He cannot lose her.

He will not survive that heartbreak.

_Emma_.

"Get a move on," he bellows—his carefully built façade shatters at Elsa umpteenth refusal—turning to glare at the stately blonde, "I don't care for your petty arguments and pathetic plight! _She's dying_!" He is beyond caring about showing his vulnerability.

All he cares for is getting Emma out of this icy cage.

"Please," he whispers, fully turning to Elsa, "Please. She is…" he chokes, "She is everything. _Please_."

He barely listens to what David and Anna say to Elsa—his heart is pounding painfully in his chest and he cannot—

He cannot breathe.

Fear is gripping at his throat, and he feels as though _he_ is the one who is frozen—he wants to cry and scream and rage and run, but he cannot bring himself to move.

He cannot go through this again.

Not again.

But then something in the ice changes—it starts to melt, little drops of ice cold water dripping onto his hand where it is still pressed tightly against the ice. He does not turn to see who is melting the ice—he does not care.

The ice is thinner, and he can almost punch his fist through it—and then there is an opening.

A small one, but it is large enough to see through it, and he cries out in pain as he sees Emma curled up against the far end of the cage, her eyes shut and her skin deathly pale. Her lips are tinged with blue, and he cannot help but punch through the still-melting ice in his desperation to get to her.

_Emma_.

She hangs limply in his arms when he pulls her to him, but she's breathing and _alive_ and he can _breathe_ again.

He is still terrified—it is not the first time he has seen the devastating effects of cold on a human body—but he is also joyous and light, because she's _here_.

He has her in his arms and he is _never _letting her out of his sight again.

Her skin is ice, and he needs to get her out of here and to a healer.

He lifts her up into his arms—he smiles lightly when, despite being unconscious, she snuggles into his warmth—and hurries out of the clearing, ignoring David and Anna and Elsa as he hurries towards the 'truck', as David had called it. It is somewhat difficult to see where he is walking, with Emma in his arms, but he manages and does not once trip over hidden tree roots or slip over an ice patch on the forest floor.

"Hook!"

He can hear Anna behind him, but he can't stop, he needs to help Emma, keep her safe—

"_Killian_! Wait! I can get you to the hospital far faster than this—wait!"

He stops reluctantly, turning to glare at Anna as she runs up to him.

"I care not for magic tricks," he hisses, "We need to get Emma warmed up right away or—"

"I know," Anna bites back, a green fire flashing in her eyes, "I know—let me take you to the hospital. I can take you there in less than a heartbeat, and you will be able to care for Emma an—" she cuts off, but his attention is once again diverted by his Swan, who stirs in his arms, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal that the usual vibrant forest green of her eyes is dulled and misty.

"K—Killian," she breathes in a whisper so soft, he can barely hear it.

"I've got you, love," he whispers in her ear as she tightens her near-frozen fingers in his shirt, "I've got you. I'm here."

He takes a moment to revel in Emma's slight awareness before he nods to Anna and extends his hook to her.

"Take me to this 'hospital'.

.

.

.

**Storybrooke, Maine—Granny's Diner—at that same moment**

"How's the little guy?" Ruby smiles at Mary-Margret and Henry as she brings them their lunch order. Baby Graham is happily suckling on his pacifier in his carrier, the picture of innocence—Henry rolls his eyes.

If only Ruby knew how loud Graham had screamed earlier when Mary-Margret didn't get him out of his crib immediately to feed him.

He barely listens to the conversation between his grandma and Ruby—he's far more interested in figuring out who the new girl in town is. He'd heard her say she's from the future, and that she's here to help everyone survive the new villain, but he's not sure he believes her.

She's from the future—he _does_ believe that—but why would anyone come back, ruining their own lives in the process, to _change_ the past? Even if she does manage to change the past—or the present… Whatever—she won't be able to go home.

He sighs and munches on a French fry absent-mindedly.

Everyone knows that, right?

So, why would you risk your entire existence for a group of people you've never even met? No matter how much he'd admire anyone, he doesn't think he'd ever feel that kind of devotion.

Not to total strangers…

It just doesn't make sense to him.

So… That would imply that she knows them, in the future—not just knows _of_ them.

He's about to share his theory with Mary-Margret and Ruby when the door to the Diner suddenly crashes open, and a tall, beautiful, pale woman in a long white dress strides in. He swallows thickly when her pale blue eyes—so pale they're almost as white as the whites of her eyes—fall upon their booth, and a cruel smirk curls on her lips.

"Ah," she speaks softly, "Just who I was looking for."

Before he realizes what is happening—before he even gets the chance to be some kind of afraid or alarmed—she has raised both palms towards them, and he can see the cool, crackling white of magic growing within them, her head tilted to the side slightly as she adds, "I do apologize for this… But you would only get in my way."

And then the Diner is filled with bright white light, an icy cold wind and baby Graham's cries.


End file.
